checking in
by Palindromes Rock
Summary: One-shot following S1E2 Cut Man. He told Claire he may need 'help getting patched up'. I imagine he'd go even if he didn't need help, if only to assure her he had in fact 'made it through the night'.


Checking In

 _(Takes place during the night of Daredevil S1E2: Cut Man.)_

The door opened under Claire's borrowed keys and she slipped into the dim apartment, dropping her things by the door and leaning against the wall in exhaustion. She'd opted to bring only a backpack and a suitcase, but it wasn't like she'd left anything too important behind.

Working at the hospital, especially in the ER, she'd seen her fair share of families torn apart by death. No object could ever truly compare, and memories took up no room, heavy though they might be, to carry.

Her coworker's cat threaded its way between her legs, meowing.

Claire cringed at the allergies that she would undoubtedly suffer laying low here. Her head drooped, "God" she breathed in near-laugh. An odd mixture of hysteria and terror had been gripping her since Santino had first pounded on her door, babbling about the masked man bleeding to death in the dumpster, only now did that panic abate at all. "How did this happen?"

She knew how, and despite how tired she was there was a thin acknowledgement that it was better her than someone else. She at least had the skills needed to handle a man more ribbon than solid flesh.

The couch was closer than the bed.

She gladly collapsed there gladly.

A minute later she shifted so her head rested on her arms instead of on the couch, face turned away from cloth that smelled like years of exposure to cat. She could feel the runny nose and irritated esophagus coming on anyway.

The darkness shifted as the moon moved.

And Claire still couldn't fall asleep.

The pit in the bottom of her stomach wouldn't leave; it just grew larger and heavier.

Claire snorted and let her head loll back and forth in a mockery of a headshake. A couple hours and she already worried about him.

Being a nurse had taught her to distance herself enough to do her best work, no matter how tired she felt, how much she wanted nothing more than a minute of peace and rest or to snap at anyone in range. She knew the importance of being professional, even clinical, but she became a nurse because she cared. A few more minutes of contact had been all it took to become invested.

Uneven steps and a creaking outside the window had Claire jerking from the not-sleep she'd fallen into.

The adrenaline from before returned and made her heart flutter.

"It's me."

His voice was muted and rough, but even through the window Claire could hear well enough. Tension washed away in an instant and she unlatched the window and opened it.

He climbed through without much aid and only a few pained grunts.

"Survived the night, Mike." Claire spoke, voice awash with wary relief and only half-achieved sarcasm.

The masked man grunted in affirmation.

"The boy?" She asked, opening and dry-swallowing some allergy medication to ease the itching in her sinuses.

"Safe; back with his father", 'Mike' said stiffly.

Claire exhaled in relief. Her nap had done little in way of refreshment, but she was used to odd hours at the hospital and the mindset came back without prompting. She nodded and pulled her emergency kit from the backpack still sitting by the door. "And you?"

His shoulders slumped, apparently he'd been ready, even expecting, to be kicked out without her services. "I gave more than I got, but several wounds reopened."

Claire silently set about patching him up for the second time that night.

Neither was keen on speaking, but as she finished he brushed a hand across her shoulder in the same manner as he'd done earlier in the night. Perhaps it was because she knew he was blind that it seemed like a means to focus entirely on her position, an emphasis. He spoke softly, head turned away "thank you, Claire. Again."

Claire sighed, "yeah… you're welcome."

She stood up, pealing off the latest pair of bloodied latex gloves. "I'd offer you the couch, but… it's not my apartment and not my couch. I think my coworker would take issue with blood in the upholstery."

'Mike' snorted and his lips twitched into a half-smile. "I think I've troubled you enough tonight." He moved back towards the window and gingerly stepped back out onto the fire escape.

"Try not to be back here too soon." Claire warned him, "I'd prefer you not make a habit of these 'off-nights'."

He chuckled again, "I'll try. Be safe." Then he climbed up and out of her view.

Claire shook her head, "I suppose it's too much to ask for you to stay safe too" the pit in her belly dissolved. "He'll live." She echoed and resolved to actually make it to the bed this time. If she was going to hide out for a while, then she was damn well going to sleep comfortably. She'd done her work for the night, and whether or not she liked the result, this was her reward.

 _(I was rewatching Daredevil and started thinking about his line 'if I make it through the night, I might need some help getting patched up' or something like that. I kind of always took Claire for the kind of nurse who becomes grudgingly attached to her patients… the ones who aren't mafia or jerkwads. Kind of sarcastic, a bit rough around the edges, but smooth and self assured. Really down to earth.)_


End file.
